


to move openly together, in the pull of gravity

by evocates



Series: cartographies of silence [2]
Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-31
Updated: 2012-07-31
Packaged: 2017-11-11 03:22:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/473957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evocates/pseuds/evocates
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ostensibly, Viggo rewards Sean for getting the role in the Devil’s Peak Trilogy. But really, this is just an exercise in trust. Part of the <i><a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/396819">cartographies of silence</a></i> universe, before Part 10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	to move openly together, in the pull of gravity

**Author's Note:**

> Betaed by databomb@dw, who is incredibly sweet to do this for me even though she doesn't know the fandom.

_May 2012_

Too long. It had been too damn long since Sean had seen Viggo, much less touched him. He should have been used to it; his life was too busy for someone to be in it constantly, and for a long time he had convinced himself that it was what he preferred. Sean needed time to himself and needed to work on a near-constant basis; it was, he thought, why his marriages constantly failed. _He_ didn't mind, but his wives certainly did, and they blamed him for it.

With Viggo, however... he missed Viggo right now with a sharp ache inside him, tugging in his chest with every breath. It was just another few minutes before the plane landed; another hour at the very most before he walked into the room. But Sean couldn't help but think that it was one of the longest damn hours he had spent in his entire life. He was fidgeting when he shouldn't have been - and Sean took a deep breath and concentrated instead on the memories of his last conversation with Viggo.

**

“So what is this I hear?”

Sean blinked. Viggo had never gotten rid of his habit of starting conversations in the middle, but now it only made Sean smile. He exhaled, and with that breath he felt the tension wound around his shoulders slowly release.

“Don't know. What didya think you 'eard?”

“Two words: Devil's Peak,” Viggo's voice was a soft, sensuous murmur that sank into Sean's mind and made him shiver. His next inhale tripped slightly in his throat, and he swallowed just as Viggo continued, “My agent told me you got the contract.”

“Yeah,” Sean replied, and he could not help grinning, maybe a little too widely. “Bunch of real great yarns. Was 'onoured, really, that they asked me. Was thinkin' I was getting too old fer the good, meaty roles, but they don't think the same.”

“Mmm,” Viggo hummed, and there was a genuine pleasure in his voice that made Sean grin even wider. “And when were you going to tell me about it? I had to find out from my _agent_ , Sean.”

“I-” Sean paused. He floundered for a moment. If they were still 'only friends', he had the answer on the tip of his tongue, teasing and sharp, but their relationship was only a few months old, and he didn't know what was the right answer to give.

He took a deep breath, “I didn't think you were interested.”

“Now you know differently, mm?” Viggo didn't sound angry. Sean couldn't help but rub a fist against his nose and lips for a moment, licking the latter out of nervousness.

He was never really good at this; was never good at finding just the right words to say. That was Viggo, through and through.

“Guess so.”

Viggo made another soft sound, something that could be confirmation and denial both, and Sean licked his own lips again. Suddenly, despite how much he generally disliked the phone, he was glad for its presence; it protected him from Viggo seeing just how out of sorts he was. He shouldn't have been; he'd known Viggo for years, loved him for just as long, but he was, nonetheless.

Viggo seemed to sense that somehow, because he continued, “I have a break coming up. How about I drop by London for a couple of weeks?” He paused, and Sean held his breath. “I think I have something for us to celebrate with.”

There was something in his voice that made Sean sit up suddenly. “Yeah?” he asked, and tried to make a joke of it. “You found some fantastic Argentinean beer or something?”

“Oh no,” Viggo said, his voice a low purr. “Something much better.”

**

Like this, Sean's hearing was much more sensitive than usual, and when he heard the key turn in the lock of his own house he felt his breath hitch in his throat. But he kept himself still and his back straight and didn't move even though he started trembling slightly, all over.

He could hear Viggo’s footsteps getting nearer, and he clenched his hands at his back, nearly ripping the piece of black cloth he held, as he waited. Sean had done something like this what seemed like a long time ago with Gina, but he had never gone so far with it. Never in this position either, and he was literally holding his breath when he heard Viggo’s hand on the doorknob of his room, turning it.

“You didn’t have to leave the lights off,” Viggo said, and Sean squeezed his eyes shut when the lights came on. He blinked hard, shaking his head slightly as he tipped his head up to look at Viggo. His lips parted, but he could not find any words to say.

But it seemed that Viggo already knew, and he was placing two fingers against Sean’s lips. 

“Shh,” he shushed him, and Sean watched his Viggo’s legs slowly folded underneath him until he was kneeling in front of him. “You look beautiful like this, Sean. Absolutely beautiful. How did you even know the proper way to kneel?”

It was a question, and Sean swallowed. “I looked it up,” he said, his voice a little hoarse. “Was a little awkward, but I ‘ad free time that I was spending alone in the ‘ouse, and I looked it up.” His hands, tucked neatly at his back, twisted a little more. “I told you I can ‘andle it.”

Viggo leaned in, pressing their foreheads together, and Sean closed his eyes at the feel of his lover’s breath against his skin. He tilted his head slightly when Viggo’s hand stroked against his cheekbone, nuzzling against the rough, callused skin. His lips parted, and he licked against the skin, tasting salt and paint.

“Yeah, you did,” Viggo said.

His hand slowly trailed down Sean’s jaw to his neck, then even further downwards to his arm. Sean’s fingers opened almost involuntarily, and Viggo picked the soft strip of black cloth away from his fingers. He pulled it forward, stretching it outwards, and stroked the skin of Sean’s hip with it. Slowly, he moved it up his body, from his hip to his stomach all the way until Sean’s neck where he stopped, caressing against the rapidly-bobbing Adam’s apple, trying to soothe the small tremors that he could feel all over Sean’s body.

“Are you sure about this?” Viggo shifted slightly, his gaze fixing on Sean. “We can do something else, if you’re not.”

“I am,” Sean said, and he swallowed. “Bit ‘bout the kneeling isn’t the only thing I read, you know?”

Viggo frowned slightly, still worried, but he nodded, and Sean felt his next breath coming easier. His knees were starting to ache slightly from his position, but he ignored the feeling as he watched Viggo pull the cloth away from his skin, stretching it outwards. 

“You know the word to tell me to stop,” he said.

“Yeah,” Sean said, and licked his licks. “Hyphen.”

Viggo nodded, and it was the last thing Sean saw before he placed the blindfold over his eyes.

***

God.

_God,_ Viggo swore silently again, with much more vehemence, as he stepped back. His own hands were trembling, and he pressed them hard against his own jeans. Sean was so utterly beautiful like this that it took his breath away, on his knees with a blindfold covering his eyes, his lips red and wet from constantly licking and biting against the skin, his hands tucked nearly behind his back. He was naked, completely naked, and his cock sat half-hard on his lap, and Viggo’s hands shook with sheer arousal at the moment.

It was an idea, just an idea, because their relationship was so new and they didn’t know how to trust each other. Viggo suggested it with the abstract of it in his head, with just a wish to hear Sean’s voice when he called him _Sir_ with perfect seriousness.

The reality of it was an entirely different beast. Viggo clenched his hands to steady them before he opened them again, reaching out to slide his fingers into Sean’s hair. Sean immediately tipped his head up, so gorgeously obliging that Viggo had to take a moment to remember to breathe.

“Stand up, boy,” he said, keeping his voice low so Sean would not hear the hoarseness of it, scraped raw by sheer want. “You can move your hands.”

Sean nodded, levering himself off of the floor the stand. He was trembling still and so close, Viggo could see that he was biting on the inside of his lip. That wouldn’t do at all, and he leaned in, their breaths ghosting together before Viggo kissed him, nudging against Sean’s lips with his tongue until Sean parted them, and he stroked the inside of his mouth even he wrapped his hands around Sean’s back, fingertips grazing against the knobs of his spine, over and over.

“Viggo,” Sean whispered, and his hands reached up, clenching around Viggo’s shoulders—but Viggo stepped back immediately, grabbing onto one wrist and then the next, holding them tightly together before he pulled Sean’s arms upwards.

“You’re not allowed to touch,” he said, and scraped his teeth against the shell of Sean’s ear as emphasis. “Keep your arms up, and don’t move them.”

Sean straightened his arms, then his back. He nodded towards Viggo, and there was the barest hint of a smile behind his lips. “Yes, sir!” he snapped out like a soldier, but Sean had always been bad at keeping his amusement hidden, and he chuckled.

Well, _that_ wasn’t the way Viggo wanted to hear ‘sir’ from his lips, but he couldn’t help but laugh as well, leaning in and kissing Sean right against the bright smile. He could feel Sean’s laughter against him, and he cupped the back of his head, pulling Sean’s head back slightly to nip against his throat.

“Mind telling me what’s so funny?”

“You, that’s all,” Sean was still chuckling slightly, his grin wide as his breath sped up more, the skin of his neck trembling. “Just imaginin’ you givin’ orders like some drill sergeant, with paint on yer nails and no shoes at all. Don’t fit, ‘s all.”

Viggo ducked his head and couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought. He shifted himself until he was standing behind Sean, his knuckles stroking against the knobs of his spine. Then he nudged Sean forward, “Move forward. Bed’s in three steps, take them slowly, and kneel on the bed once you reach it.”

Sean stopped laughing immediately, but he had stopped trembling as he moved forward. Careful steps, each one sliding against the carpeted floor—one of Sean’s many indulgences in his London house—as he measured them until his foot touched the edge of the bed. Then he bent over, offering Viggo a full view of his magnificent ass—and he _knew it_ , the bastard, because he wriggled in slightly—before he crawled onto the bed on his hands and knees, moving to the centre of the mattress before he straightened up and knelt. His hands moved automatically to his back, tucking them right above the dimple at the small, and he stilled himself.

“You’re so beautiful,” Viggo blurted out because he couldn’t help himself, and he immediately moved. He was still dressed, and the rough material of his jeans scraped against Sean’s bare skin, provoking a full body shudder from him. Sean choked back a sound, a small gasp caught in the base of his throat, and Viggo reached forward, curving his hand against Sean’s neck.

“No,” he said. “No, you’re not allowed to hold yourself back. You’ll let me hear you. Every single sound, Sean.” He rolled his hips forward, deliberate now, and Sean threw his head back and this time his gasp was loud enough to echo in the room. Viggo breathed it in, let it settle into his chest, and felt almost dizzy as his blood rushed southwards.

He placed his hand carefully on Sean’s back, splaying the fingers out, and he pressed down slightly. Sean resisted at first, but he let out a shuddering sigh before his hands released themselves from each other. His elbows hit the bed and he bent his head, his hair falling like minute strands of oak over the blindfold as he moved down. Instinctively, his legs spread outwards, balancing himself better, and Viggo inhaled sharply even as his hand followed the line of Sean’s hand.

Slowly, he raised one of them and placed them against the headboard, then the other one. Sean’s fingers clenched against the wood immediately, holding him still, but there was still too much tension in him.

“Trust me,” Viggo said, murmuring the words against Sean’s jaw, Sean’s hair, Sean’s temple. “Relax.”

“Easier said than done,” Sean muttered right back, but with his next exhale the tension seemed to seep out of his body, and his head fell forward even further. “Kind of ‘ard ta when I’m arse naked and can’t see, and I can tell you still ‘aven’t taken anythin’ off, you bastard.”

Viggo chuckled. “Maybe I’ll take something off,” he said, his fingers doing a slow crawl down Sean’s body. “If you’re good.”

Without warning, he _smacked_ him hard, right between the juncture of ass and thigh.

Sean yelped, his head jerking up—but he didn’t try to rip off the blindfold, didn’t even move his hands, and Viggo was struck speechless by the sheer amount of trust that this man gave him. He did it again, on the other side, and this time Sean only gave him a sharp inhale, and with one glance Viggo could see his half-hard cock grow to full mast beneath his body.

This was going so much better than he thought it would. Viggo inhaled softly through his teeth, leaning down and scraping those against the slowly-reddening skin. Those were hard slaps, and Sean moaned quietly at the touch, the sound growing deeper and louder when Viggo bit against him.

“Am I a good boy yet?”

“Quiet,” Viggo said, and when he smacked him this time it was right on his ass. Sean jerked forward, and Viggo pulled away entirely. He was wearing one of his thin, paint-splattered shirts, and he let Sean hear the sound of the rip as he tore at one of the sleeves, pulling a thin, uneven strip of cloth.

Then he slithered down on the bed, not touching Sean but feeling his heat, feeling the entirely different tension of anticipation before he slid the rough cotton against Sean’s cock. It jumped against the cloth, and Viggo rewarded Sean with a soft lick against the head before he tied it around his cock, tightening the cloth at the base, looping it around his balls for a makeshift cock ring.

“I’ll have to find you something nice for this,” he said, voice low. The room was so quiet that he didn’t need to speak above a whisper. “Leather, maybe, with metal on the buckles,” he licked against the head again, this time his tongue slipping into the slit to gather pre-come on his tongue, and he felt Sean’s moan juddering throughout his body. 

Still flat on his back, Viggo grabbed onto the other sleeve and pulled. Sean turned his head, trying to find out where the sound came from, but Viggo was already moving, plastering himself against Sean’s back, his bared wrists and forearms stroking against his hips, up to his back and shoulders, and he took the piece of cloth and wrapped it gently around Sean’s neck.

“Up.”

“ _Jesus_ ,” Sean whispered, and he tilted his head back and followed Viggo’s hands, followed him as his own released the headboard, kneeling again. It was almost a boneless position as Viggo tied a knot around the cloth, leaving enough give for Sean to breathe, leaving enough of the paint-stained thing to tickle against the back of Sean’s neck.

“I’ll find you a collar,” Viggo continued, as if Sean hadn’t even spoken. “Something thin that you will wear underneath your shirt whenever you go out for events, and when people take pictures of you they’ll see it, peeking out underneath the buttons of your shirt. _I’ll_ see it, and know that the world will know you belong to me.”

“ _Viggo_ ,” Sean’s voice was choked now, and his cock swelled even more under Viggo’s gaze, beads of pre-come gathering at the tip. Viggo smiled against his shoulder, his hand reaching down and curving around Sean’s cock, stroking him from base to tip then back again, just once. 

He couldn’t help himself. Tugging against the tiny leash, he turned Sean’s head and kissed him hard, claiming his mouth, and Sean claimed him right back, his urgency translating into the language of teeth and tongue and lips, biting against Viggo’s mouth and skin until Viggo was shaking with restrained need, and his hand wrapped around Sean’s shoulder, holding their bodies close. But it was too soon, too fast, and he pulled away regretfully, licking Sean’s lips to quiet the frustrated moan that escaped the other man.

“Stay still,” he ordered, and he moved away from the bed.

Sean was trembling now, this time in need and desperation, but Viggo only went as far as the nightstand. He took the lube and looked at the condoms for a moment before he closed the drawer, the _thump_ making Sean jump and turn his head—and for that, Viggo hit him hard on the ass, stroking the sensitive skin with callused fingertips before he did the same to the other one.

Sean’s hands hit the mattress hard, and he gasped—but Viggo was relentless, hand slapping flesh over and over, and with each blow Sean jerked forward, his hands scrabbling for some purpose on the sheets before he _lurched_ forward, searching blindly for the headboard before he found it and threw his head back.

“Vig!” the sound of his own name had never sounded so amazingly good as when Sean was yelling it in abandon, voice slowly growing hoarse. “God, Viggo—ahh! Jesus, _Viggo_!”

Viggo stopped. His hand caressed Sean’s flesh for a moment before he snapped open the bottle of lube with shaking hands, pouring on his hand, spilling what seemed like half of it on the mattress. But he didn’t care at the point, pressing two fingers inside, stretching Sean open and crooking them up immediately, finding the spot inside to make Sean yell- and Sean did, a breathless little thing, and Viggo stilled his hands.

Stilled everything, until the only movement of the room was Sean’s tremors under him, around him, shaking like a spooked horse, his breaths coming fast and hard. Sweat made his skin shine underneath the dulled lights of the bedroom and the moonlight coming through the curtains, and Viggo took a long moment to enjoy the sight—and to control himself and not pull out his fingers and just fuck into him.

“You gonna do anythin’ else?”

Sean’s voice was wrecked with pants, but the question was full of enough snark that Viggo laughed. He pressed a kiss against the small of Sean’s back, tasting sweat and skin, before he smacked him hard again, the force of the blow hard enough to move his fingers, to rub the tips inside Sean’s prostate, rushing him over with pain and pleasure combined, and Sean threw his head back and moaned loudly, clenching around Viggo’s fingers, and it was such a beautiful sight that Viggo did it again.

And again.

And again.

***

Viggo’s face always looked so stunning in arousal, every sharp angle exposed until he looked like a predator ready to pounce. Sean wanted to see it, wanted to rip off the blindfold and turn around, to pin Viggo down and ride him until they were both screaming—but his hands were useless and his body could only tremble under every stroke inside, every blow against his ass, and the pain and the pleasure mingled in his brain so much that he was left only gasping and moaning, entirely wordless, under the onslaught.

It was good, so goddamn good, and Sean didn’t even realised that he liked pain like this; liked it when it came from Viggo’s hand, and he threw his head back and _yelled_ at the next slap that was so hard that he had to throw himself backwards from his hands to stop his head from smacking against the wall. Viggo was strong, he had always known he was strong, but there was knowing and there was feeling, and Sean felt like a boneless toy, malleable and melting under Viggo’s hands, helpless and only waiting for the next move, the next sensation—

He could not breathe suddenly, because Viggo had hooked fingers underneath his makeshift collar and was pulling him up. Sean went because he couldn’t think of not obeying Viggo’s orders—unspoken or not—at the point, and he gasped for hair when Viggo released him only to pull his fingers out and place both hands on his hips. Like this- like this, blinded and focused so entirely on Viggo, he could practically feel the shape of each callus on Viggo’s hands, as if they were branded onto his skin by the sheer heat.

It made him feel possessed. Owned. Even more than the collar around his neck and the cloth around his cock, it was as if Viggo’s fingers were laying his marks on Sean’s skin, and they would never be erased.

His lover, the man he trusted most in the world, was plastered against his back, rough cotton and rougher denim rubbing against his sensitised skin, and Sean moaned helplessly when he felt Viggo’s erection, wet and hard sliding against the cleft of his own ass. His head wanted to drop forward but he couldn’t even do that, because there were fingers on his throat, pulling his head back to rest against Viggo’s shoulder. He could smell him here—the faintest scent of paint and hay and the airport, and Sean couldn’t help but just sag into his arms even as he felt Viggo breach him, pressing inside, stretching him open with a welcome burn that had become so familiar in the past months that he had started _missing_ it.

“Vig,” he sighed, and it was as if he had lost control of his mouth; as if his body had taken over and he was floating in some kind of space, some place where he didn’t need to think and he could just feel, buffeted at all points by Viggo’s hands, Viggo’s cock, Viggo’s jeans scraping against the sensitive skin of his ass, Viggo’s damn _scent_. “God, _Vig_.”

“You’re so damn beautiful, Sean,” Viggo murmured against his ear, and he was thrusting slowly, pulling out and pressing back in, stretching Sean further open with each stroke, and Sean’s eyes were open beneath the blindfold, staring blindly with his lips parted as he tried to breathe. “Te amo. Jeg elsker dig. Ya tebya lyubyu. I love you. _I love you_.”

“Viggo,” Sean gasped, his hands reaching up to curl around Viggo’s shoulder, to turn his head to kiss him hard, breathing against his lips, tasting him as Viggo fucked him slow and sweet, as Viggo found his way into Sean’s heart even more than before, wrapping himself all around it like his body was wrapped around Sean’s. 

Slowly, he felt the little hollow inside him, the uncertainty he had been feeling, melting away and filled with everything that Viggo was doing, everything Viggo _was_. With each breath Sean took he felt Viggo’s entire presence mark the inside of his lungs, indelible marks that would never leave.

He gloried in it. 

Then Viggo’s hand wrapped around his cock, his thrusts speeding up, and Sean stopped thinking immediately. He couldn’t help the little noises he made as Viggo’s cock slammed into him and his fingers stroked him hard, and with every move Viggo made there was a sharp spike of pain against his skin that sank into him and twined with the pleasure and made him arch and whine and gasp, his hand clenching convulsively against Viggo’s hair.

He was close, so damn close, and despite the cloth around his cock he could feel himself hovering before the edge—

But Viggo stopped.

“You fucking bastard,” Sean gasped, and his words were almost incomprehensible to _himself_ , so thickened by his accent. “Move, goddamn, move—”

Instead of obeying, Viggo pulled out entirely, and smacked him right against his ass, right where his first slap had landed, and Sean jerked forward, gasping hard. But he didn’t have far enough to go, because Viggo’s other hand was in a fist, pressed against his abdomen and keeping him still as he did it again.

“Wrong response, Sean,” Viggo said, his teeth sinking into Sean’s shoulder, and Sean yelled at the touch, thrusting his hips forward, fucking into nothing—and when he spoke again, he knew the _exact_ words to say.

“Please,” he begged, entirely shameless. “Please, please, Viggo, please- I need to- _please_!”

“Louder.”

“Please!” the word was a shout. “Please, for fuck’s sake, Viggo! Please, _fuck me_!”

There were hands on his hips and Sean nearly sobbed in relief as Viggo slammed himself back home inside him, this time not even bothering to be gentle. Sean’s head felt forward, held upright only by Viggo’s hands—and Viggo shifted one of them, moving to Sean’s cock and tugging against the cloth that kept his orgasm at bay. Sean threw his head back, making a grateful, sobbing noise as he thrust into that hand just as Viggo shoved into him, and he felt as if he was coming apart, held together by Viggo’s touch alone as he came so hard that stars exploded at the back of his eyes and he spilled all over Viggo’s hand.

He felt Viggo shove him forward, fingers placed over his mouth and nose to soften the impact as he hit the mattress. Sean groaned low in his throat as he felt Viggo thrust into him once, twice, so oversensitive that it was almost painful before Viggo came inside him, a rush of heat that marked him on the insides.

A breath. Sean tipped his head back, let go of it, and felt Viggo’s lips against his jaw, his ear, and he turned around to drag his lips over his cheek, too exhausted for a proper kiss. 

They fell against the bed together, side by side, Sean’s back against Viggo’s chest, their bodies still joined.

“Since we’re not young, weeks have to do time,” Viggo murmured, his voice hitching at every other word with how out of breath he was. Sean closed his eyes and leaned back against him, listening.

“For years of missing each other. Yet only this odd warp  
in time tells me we’re not young.  
Did I ever walk the morning streets at twenty,   
my limbs streaming with a purer joy?  
did I lean from any window over the city  
listening for the future  
as I listen here with nerves tuned for your ring?”

Sean didn’t recognise the poem, but his lips curved into a smile nonetheless. He arched his back as Viggo pulled out slowly, and went with him as he felt himself being turned over to his other side. He was pliant, relaxed in a way he never thought he could ever be. That he had not been in a damn long time.

“And you, you move toward me with the same tempo.   
Your eyes are everlasting, the green spark  
of the blue-eyed grass of early summer,  
the green-blue wild cress washed by the spring.”

Viggo’s smile was the first thing he saw when the blindfold was tugged off and he blinked those self-same green eyes. He smiled back at Viggo, a little muzzy as his vision cleared, and he reached out and cupped his cheeks and kissed him gently on the lips.

He had no poetry that suited in these moments. His words were far simpler, and best-suited.

“I love you,” he said, and he felt the last piece of his uncertainly fall apart at the answering light in Viggo’s eyes.

_End_

**Author's Note:**

> notes: [twenty-one love poems](http://www.angelfire.com/weird2/dreamcatcherui/poetry/rich21.html), by Adrienne Rich. Specifically, stanza III.


End file.
